


You’re Not a Pet, Peter

by GreyLiliy



Series: Whumptober 2020 - Peter Parker [1]
Category: Spider-Man (Movies - Raimi)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Possessive Behavior, Restraints, Whumptober 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:26:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27066358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyLiliy/pseuds/GreyLiliy
Summary: Waking to the world upside down was Peter’s normal. Being disoriented upon seeing the world upside down, however, was new.
Relationships: Harry Osborn & Peter Parker
Series: Whumptober 2020 - Peter Parker [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1975432
Comments: 4
Kudos: 65
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	You’re Not a Pet, Peter

**Author's Note:**

> _Whumptober 2020!_  
>  Prompt No 1. LET’S HANG OUT SOMETIME  
> Waking Up Restrained | Shackled | Hanging
> 
> I knew Whumptober was for me when I read the first prompt because Restraints are like. A thing for me. I love them. I’m very happy I get to start off with a favorite. :D
> 
> Plus, I love Peter Parker in restraints. No joke a few weeks ago I found a comic with Peter in a straight jacket on the cover and just bought it because “Peter Parker Restrained.” (If you’re curious, it was the Amazing Spider-Man #48: Sins Rising Part 4).
> 
> Though I will admit this prompt was challenging—Peter Parker has enhanced strength. He’s a strong dude and that’s not easy to restrain. But I had some fun with it. :D
> 
> For this story, I chose one of my first Spider-Man loves: The Raimi movies. They still have my favorite Harry Osborn & my favorite live-action Peter Parker and it’s fun to finally write something for that universe…even if it’s still Canon Divergent (I like movie three, but this is diverging before that happens) and takes creative liberties. Lol. Thank you for reading!

Waking to the world upside down was Peter’s normal.

Being disoriented upon seeing the world upside down, however, was new. A dull buzz roared in the back of his mind. The view past the lenses on his mask was blurred. He could see shapes and the vague outlines of a room. A blurry figure in the center—a person right side up. A few blinks didn’t clear his vision—was his vision smudged or the lens?

“I told myself it didn’t matter who was under that mask, I was going to kill them.”

The voice that spoke was foggy, but he could tell it came from the blurry figure. Peter shifted—or he tried. His body remained limp and out of his control.

“And then it was you and I couldn’t do it.”

Peter blinked again.

Focused on his breathing.

His chest felt tight—restraints or a problem?

“I let you leave, too.”

Peter couldn’t move to test it. His entire body felt numb, like he was disconnected from it. Despite it, his body swayed. Upside down. Swaying. What did that mean?

“After I thought about it, I decided it should be worse that it was you.”

The voice kept speaking.

There was a familiarity to the whine.

“My father adored you. You’re the last person who would have ever killed him.”

Who was it?

“But you still did.”

Peter knew that voice.

“I strengthened my resolve after discovering a few things about my old man. Even if I had an explanation for why you two were fighting, it didn’t matter.”

Harry?

Peter wanted to move.

Why couldn’t he move?

“But it was still hard. I wasn’t sure I could go through with it, so I had to figure out a new plan.”

His brain screamed commands to his limbs. Move. Twitch. Struggle. Wriggle. Anything. But nothing worked. He couldn’t feel his body.

“Don’t take the mask off and string him up—that’d make it easier for sure when I slit your throat and drained you like a pig.”

It was Harry’s voice.

Harry’s cruel words.

Peter opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He felt a line of drool from the side of his mouth. It caught on his mask, pooling on the corner of his lip.

“It didn’t help.”

His mask scratched against the side of his face—the slightest sensation that ruffled his hair—as it was pulled down. The blurry figure stood close enough that Peter could see the lines of Harry’s face with dark eyes and deep bags, puffy and the color of bruises.

“It’s still you under here.”

Harry’s hand entered Peter’s vision and he touched Peter’s cheek. He couldn’t feel it. Couldn’t focus.

The room kept swaying.

“I’ll think of something else to do with you.”

Harry let go and pulled over a small tube. Peter tried to follow it, seeing it disappear toward his arm—an IV? Harry pressed a button twice on the handle.

Peter’s eyes closed.

* * *

A cold splash of water woke Peter. He gasped, sucking in a breath as his body jerked from the shock.

But at least he could feel it.

Peter shifted and was quick to find that his feet didn’t touch the ground. He lifted a leg and it moved an inch, both ankles were shackled to the hard wall at his back. Peter’s arms were similarly secured above him, high and straining. Peter tilted his head back to see the thick, metal restraints.

The movement made him dizzy and he had to shake his head. When his vision cleared, he noticed the IV tube connected to his ankle.

“Morning, Petey.”

Harry dropped the bucket of water on a metal side table. He hopped up to sit on the edge, and dropped his hands in the space between his legs. Harry looked pale and sick; the bags under his eyes were worse.

His eyes were dull.

“Harry.” Peter’s voice felt hoarse. He looked around, taking in the clean and sterile laboratory room. They must have been at Oscorp. “How’d I get here?”

“I wanted you here,” Harry said. He shrugged, as if that was enough of an answer for how he’d overpowered someone like Spider-Man. “I can’t kill you, and I can’t stand to see you swinging around the city after what you did, so this is my compromise.”

Harry jumped off the table and strolled closer. He put his hands on either side of Peter’s face and shifted until his fingers rested on the back of Peter’s neck.

“On the bright side, I’ve slowly been discovering all the naughty things my dad was hiding in his spare time,” Harry said. He snorted and let go of Peter to walk back into the lab. He stuck a hand in his pocket and turned on his hip. “Sedatives, drugs, industrial restraints meant to hold all of his little pet-projects should the worst happen—all of it makes it much easier to keep a certain Spider-Man captive.”

“I wouldn’t be able to convince you to talk about this, would you?” Peter asked. Something cold had fallen over his friend—something familiar. It always amazed him that Norman Osborn never noticed how much his son took after him. “You’ve always been awful at taking care of pets.”

Harry snorted and cracked a half-smile.

It was still cruel, but also fond in a way that made Peter’s stomach twist.

“You’re not a pet, Peter.” Harry patted his cheek twice and walked away, letting his fingers drag against Peter’s skin. “But you are mine.”

“Harry,” Peter called. The man whistled and walked across the white lab floor. “Hey! Where are you going?”

“I’ve got a meeting to attend, Petey!” Harry held a hand up, not bothering to turn around. “Dad had a lot of off-the-book contacts that need assurance that Oscorp still has their back. Just hang tight and I’ll be back.”

Peter tugged on the shackle above his head, but his movements felt sluggish. He glared at the IV again. Whatever was in it was messing with his powers.

“Harry!”

“Seriously, Peter,” Harry said. When he reached the lab door, he looked back and smiled. “We’ve got all the time in the world to make sure you regret killing my father.”

The door slammed shut.

“I didn’t kill your dad,” Peter said, his breath heavy. He yanked on the shackles, forcing his strength to combat the pull of the drugs. It felt like pulling his limbs through mud, caking him down and making him work for every inch. The metal bent, but did not break. “Come on! Snap!”

The wrapping metal held tight.

Peter couldn’t get the strength to break them.

He was trapped.

“Harry,” Peter called again. His voice echoed in the empty room. He wasn’t coming back. Peter was trapped. Alone. Unable to move. Drugged. “Harry!”

His hoarse voice twisted and hurt as much as the tightness in his chest.


End file.
